How To Kiss
by music4evah
Summary: Spontaneous, romanticish drabbles. Latest: isn't it amazing how slowly and completely things change? and when you finally look back on it all, you wonder how it happened; how something so big could come from something so small.
1. make a wish

"You know, I've always thought wishes were a little..."

"A little what?"

"Erm. Selfish. I mean, some of them."

"Yes, because wishing for world peace would obviously not be."

"Well, yes, but certain ones are. I mean, sometimes 11:11 comes around, and I just try to think of something to wish for."

"It shouldn't be that hard. We all want something."

"I know, but sometimes I just _don't_ know what to wish for. It's those moments when I feel happy and content with my life. I don't really lack much, and so I don't feel like I need anything more. Except..."

"Except?"

"Well, sometimes I suddenly think about... um, someone."

"Someone."

"... Who is male."

"Ah. I understand."

"Yeah, and so... Well, I just think about how nice it would be if he- if he liked me back, you know?"

"A lot of girls wish for that. So what's the problem?"

"It just seems unfair to them- and entirely selfish. Who am I to just wish to the universe that it control that boy and rewire his brain to think of me like I think of him?"

"What if he already does?"

"That's beside the point, because I have no way of knowing that. He... he probably doesn't, anyway. But it just seems so cruel to wish to take away his freedom."

"... That's a different way of looking at it."

"And it leaves me with nothing to wish for. Well, I guess I can just wish for something, but I'd like it to be meaningful. Something I really want, more than anything."

"You _do_ realize that you could just wish to know what he thinks about you, right? That way, you don't have to worry about whether or not he does, you don't have to worry about being selfish, and then you can actually do something about it. And find a more useful wish."

"... I..."

"Never thought of it before?"

"... Yeah."

"Well. Problem solved."

"Wow. Thank you. I will treasure this moment for the rest of my life."

"Oh, come now, Amy- there's no reason to be sarcastic."

"I just _poured out my soul to you_, and you ask me not to be sarcastic?"

"I just solved the problem for you!"

"But you didn't even-"

"... I didn't even what?"

"Nothing."

"Amy, just tell me."

"I did."

"No, you didn't. Now what didn't I do?"

"It's silly."

"If it was, you wouldn't be blushing that way."

"W-what way?"

"Oh, don't get defensive just yet. It's cute."

"Shut up."

"If you tell me what's wrong, I will."

"... It's just... You just didn't sympathize with me at all."

"Of course I did! That's why I'm talking to you."

"No, you just made me feel like an idiot. 'You _do_ realize, don't you...'"

"I do _not _talk like that."

"Who said I could impersonate a British accent?"

"But still, you could at least talk normally and not ruin the-"

"Urgh, there you go again!"

"What?"

"You're making me feel..."

"... Oh. Stupid?"

"Dumb. Idiotic. Ridiculous. Silly, inadequate, lame, _pathet_-"

"Amy, stop! You aren't any of those things."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I mean it. I think you're brilliant."

"... Am I blushing again?"

"Of course not."

"Pft. Now _that _you're just saying."

"All right, maybe."

"_Maybe_?"

"... Amy?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever wish about me?"

"..."

"Well, that is, until you realized that it was selfish and... Well, do you ever _want_ to wish about me?"

"..."

"..."

"... Yes."

_the end~_

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><p>note: not all of these drabbles will be like this. prepare for the unexpected and spontaneous.<p>

muse/mona/whatever you call me


	2. liar, liar

_Liar, Liar._

* * *

><p>"Do you love me?"<p>

Natalie reached over the table to place her hand on his. "Of course I do."

"Really?" The slight edge to his voice took her back a little. "I'm trying to remember the last time you told me."

Trying to keep her breathing steady, she lowered her hand on his again and gave him a reassuring smile. "I love you. There, that's the last time I said it." She laughed a little. "Why? Is something bothering you?"

He pulled his hand away. "No."

There was something wrong. Natalie stared at her lone hand, manicured fresh that morning, and then retracted it back to sit in her lap. "I thought my actions were always loud enough to tell you how I feel."

The light steaming through the café's windows seemed to fade, and he was silent.

"Have I said anything wrong?" she pressed. "Honestly, dear, I—"

"You know, maybe it _is_ your words that are the problem," he cut in suddenly. "I don't know what it is. Maybe… They always seem so perfect, calculated and measured to be exactly what I need to hear."

She tilted her head. "I want what I say to be meaningful—"

"I've heard talk about you, Natalie." He turned his head from studying the café to penetrate her eyes. "A lot of people don't seem to like you. They don't trust you." He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. "Why don't they trust you?"

She leaned back, almost afraid.

Almost.

"What have people said? Who are you talking to?"

"I'm talking to you now," he said coolly. "And I want the truth. If you can manage it."

His words stung. "David…" She blew out a quick breath. "I'm only human. I've made mistakes." As he pulled away again, shaking his head, she grabbed his hand. "I haven't always been a good person." _Make eye contact._ "But I can't change what I've done, as much as I want to sometimes." He stood up. She should have left that last word off.

"I don't want you to be a liar," he said honestly. "But how would I know if you weren't?"

She could only watch dumbly as he gathered up his jacket.

"I just want to know the truth."

_Stand up. Say something. Kiss him—anything!_

But she only sat there and watched him walk away.

**the end**

**a/n – I know, it's not fluff. I told you I'd write whatever I felt like.**

**About the name. I was thinking of using Dan for this drabble, but for reasons which I'm sure you can deduct, that turned out to be just a little more complicated than what I wanted to deal with. I was going to choose another name, but I couldn't get the letter D out of my head, so I chose the first D name I thought of.**

**As for Natalie; she's very talented at lying. In this scene she's nearly an adult if not already, but I didn't want to put a label on it. A lot of the background information is up to your interpretation. For instance, whether Natalie is lying or not.**

**The answer to which even I don't know.**

** /me**


	3. promises, promises

promises, promises.

* * *

><p>why would you give something<br>when you didn't have it?  
>when you didn't own it?<p>

why would you give the best  
>part of you to someone who<br>thought it was the worst?  
>because your heart is beautiful<br>and deserves what it is.

why would you look for  
>something you want in a<br>place where you know it  
>couldn't exist? don't lie to yourself—<br>it only makes you feel like a bigger  
>fool in the end.<br>trust me.

why would you want something  
>when you know you can never<br>have it? 

they never last.

* * *

><p><em>sort of a one-sided hamiltonamy.  
><em>


	4. first kiss

_{first kiss} – set about 10 years after the books (not really focusing on the vespers series at all because it's stupid). a lot can happen in 10 years._

* * *

><p>Madison Holt suddenly decided that she liked water breaks. A lot. Especially undisciplined ones like she was having right now.<p>

Playing a slightly altered version of tackle football was exhilarating, of course—moving and playing and winning always was. There was only so much you could do with two people, though, and Ned Starling was proving himself to be just as entertaining in a conversation as he was wrestling for a ball with.

She let out a laugh as she tossed the football in the air and caught it. Madison switched her gaze from the drifting clouds above her and looked at him, lying in the grass beside her. "I can't believe you really took on that dare." She laughed again. "I mean, stealing your mother's make-up and applying it to your dog just to show up your brother doesn't seem like something a six-year-old Ned would do."

He chuckled along with her. "And what _do_ you think a six-year-old Ned would do?"

Pretending to ponder, she rubbed her lips together and hummed. "Hm, I could imagine you inventing the microwave."

"You know, I actually did that."

She whacked him and snorted. "Yeah, right. Get real."

Ned grinned. "All right," he said. "I told you my deepest, darkest secret. Now it's my turn to ask a question."

"That wasn't a very deep or dark secret," she commented.

"Well, if my mother ever found out. . . Or my dog. . ."

She whacked him again and felt his smile widen. "Okay, okay, ask me your question."

"If you could have a super power, what would it be?"

"Easy—multiplying myself," she answered. "That way I could be my own sports team and crush you at football."

He pretended to be offended. "What? Just me, playing against so many of you? Now that wouldn't be fair."

"Fine, then I'd let some of my duplicates play on your team and I'd win either way." She smirked. It wasn't every day that she outsmarted him and found a loophole.

He knit his fingers behind his head and decided to let it pass with a chuckle. "Clever. . . All right, your turn."

She thought for a moment. "Was Ted mad at you for bailing out on him?"

"Naturally." He shrugged. "But I assured him that it was for a good cause."

She groaned. "Great. Now I'm a charity case."

"Well, that's a good thing," Ned reasoned. "You see, that way, you get all of the benefits without even lifting a finger."

"Good point," she laughed. "But I was definitely lifting more than a finger when I kicked your butt at football just now."

"Hey, we still have another half of the game," he protested.

"Ready to get back at it, are you?" She sat up, challenging him gleefully.

"Well. . ."

She laughed. "Fine, I'll let you milk out your precious half time." She leaned back on her hands. "Ask me another question."

He sat up too, resting his elbows casually on his knees. "How about you tell me about your first kiss?"

Madison paused. "Oh. Psht, you don't want to hear about _that_."

"Obviously I do if you're trying to avoid the topic," he said eagerly. "Come on, let's have it."

She shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her legs. "Um, well, the thing is. . . I've never been kissed."

He blinked. "What?"

"You heard me!"

"I know, I know," he laughed. "I just find that difficult to believe. Don't tell me you've never had a boyfriend."

She shrugged. "Well, yeah, but they were all dorks or jerks or whatever. Not many guys have ever wanted to date me, and I've never really been all that interested before." She made a face. "The few relationships I've had have been short and stupid."

"Wow. You should try dating a tall, brilliant guy instead."

"Ha. No, _really?_" She nudged him playfully and wished that she could call hanging out with her best friend a date.

He laughed. "The infamous Madison Holt has never been kissed. Who knew?"

"Not you." She sighed. "I've wondered what it would be like, though, sometimes. . ."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. . ." Why was she telling him this? He was just going to tease her about it. "But I've had a tough time coming up with some romantic setting or a realistic guy who would actually want to kiss me."

He thought for a second and then moved closer, his face suddenly an inch away from hers.

Madison would never admit that she'd wished for this more times than she could count, but she backed away and yelped. "Whoa, what are you doing?"

He gave her a look as if it should be obvious. "I'm trying to kiss you. I know it's not terribly romantic and I'm probably not your ideal choice, but you need to have your first kiss _sometime_."

"But. . ." This was so different from how she had always pictured this moment. "But it's supposed to be all cute and on a date or. . . I don't know, I just always thought it would be perfect."

He gave her that look again. "But you are." He leaned in and kissed her.

And it was.

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><p><em>I've always thought that just randomly pairing up one of the Holt girls with the Starlings or something like that was so stupid and cliché, but the more that I think about Ned and Madison and all the potential and necessary character development to create any romance, the more I fall completely in love with this couple. I hope you caught a glimpse of that in my writing.(:<em>

_~muse/mona_


	5. reflecting

**I wrote this a few months ago and found it and decided I liked it and wanted to share it with you.**

* * *

><p>Amy picked up the book which had been laying on the arm rest of her couch and sat down, curling up so her knees were near her chin. It was the same thing she did nearly every day, yet somehow, this time a strange thought came to her mind.<p>

_A summer afternoon full of sunshine and smiles and arguments and sweet, lingering kisses. . . She and Ian had almost never had a quiet time while they read books together—something would make them fight or tease or if nothing else just talk. And as frustrating and stubborn as they both could be. . . it was funny, but Amy couldn't think of anything better._

Blinking, Amy pulled herself out of her memories. She hadn't thought about Ian for a long time, now.

They had been so close. He often told her that she knew him better than anyone else; odd, that he had let her, but even more oddly, he didn't mind. More than anyone, she had learned about his talents and faults for what they truly were, and knew what he wanted to accomplish in his life.

At least, she thought she had.

And she had thought he understood her, too. Enough to love her, maybe.

Amy fingered her book, not really seeing it. Yes, it had been a long time since she had thought of him and kissed him and—missed him. Suddenly alert to her surroundings again, she studied the messy (yet familiarly comfortable) room around her. It was home and it was wonderful. And once Ian had been that, too, and it had been so hard to let him go. She had nearly locked her heart away inside of her forever, unable to forget the way she had given it all to him and replaced it for a blissful moment with his.

But now. . . Amy couldn't stop a little laugh from escaping her, and she smiled at her world. She loved it so much. The people, the tasks, the struggles, and the love she had found in the most unlikely of things. How had everything come together so seamlessly, even in the midst of her deepest heartaches?

Sitting back into the cushions again, Amy opened her book and hummed softly. Her life wasn't what she would have wanted just a few years before, but she wouldn't change a thing now. How could she? It was all a part of her.

And in a way that could make her laugh and cry at the same time, it was beautiful.

**~the end**

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><p><em>isn't it amazing how slowly and completely things change? and when you finally look back on it all, you wonder how it happened; how something so big could come from something so small.<em>

-muse/mona


	6. just enough

It was the day after Valentine's Day, and Amy Cahill was livid.

There was no way to tell by looking at her, of course. The way she beamed as she strolled through the park with her fingers woven through Ian's, anyone would assume that she was perfectly happy.

Anyone but Ian Kabra, of course.

She was obviously trying too hard. Her hand squeezed his a tad tighter than necessary. Her smile was reminiscent of a pout. Sometimes she stared at the gravel path or the dead grass, but he knew she wasn't really seeing it. Once he even had to stop her from stepping in a pile of refuse which some pet-owner had irresponsibly left behind. And whenever she looked at him, her eyes lacked the usual warmth he found there.

Yes, Amy was definitely angry. What he wasn't quite sure of was whether she was angry with him or just distracted by something else. He would have to proceed carefully.

Then again, he usually had to around her.

As they were about to pass a tall maple tree, Ian pulled her off the path to stand under its leaves, slipping his arms around her waist. She lifted her face to look up at him, smiling, but. . .

"All right, Amy," he said softly, "what's bothering you?"

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't act so innocent." He touched his forehead to hers. "I know you're not happy about something. What is it?"

Her smile faltered. "Oh, really, Ian, nothing's wrong. I'm just so happy to be taking a walk with you." She tried to make a move to go back to the path, but he held her fast.

"Amy. I did something, didn't I? And I'm sure that you'd like me to figure it out all by myself and fix it, but we both know that the chances of me succeeding are astronomical. Just tell me, and I'll do anything I can to make it up to you."

She bit her lip hesitantly. "You really don't know, do you?" With a sigh she began smoothing his jacket collar. "Tell me, what was significant about yesterday?"

This required the utmost caution.

"It was Valentine's Day," he said.

"Yes, exactly!" She was gripping his collar, now. "And what did you do about it?" There was no chance to answer. "Nothing. You did absolutely nothing."

Ian's brow furrowed. "I told you that I love you. Is that nothing?"

"It wouldn't be nothing if you _never_ told me that!" She tried to push away from him again. "But you could have bought me a rose or written me a nice note or _something_."

For a moment, Ian merely looked at her. Then he lowered his head and gently pressed his lips against hers. "If I can't show you how much I love you every day," he told her, "how can I ever hope to prove that on one cold day in the middle of February? I love you, Amy Cahill, and if you want me to shower you with flowers and chocolates and ridiculous love poems, I will. But I intend to spend my whole life trying to make you happy, not just once a year."

She stared at him, her mouth gaping slightly. "I—I've never thought of it that way." Suddenly her smile was real. "I do know that you love me, Ian. And I love you too. I just wanted you to do something special yesterday. . ." She raised a hand to his cheek. "But you're enough."

He smiled at her, kissed her gently again, and led her back to the park's path. They walked on together, and this time a passerby could guess at Amy's happiness correctly. Her thumb stroked his hand softly, and her eyes brightened the sky.

"I suppose I should still buy you a rose, though?"

"Yes. Yes you should."

* * *

><p>So, happy Valentine's yesterday. I felt like writing today, so I wrote something… and then it sucked. So I rewrote it and I hope you like it.(:<p>

Fun fact: I used to think that "Cahill" was pronounced _kuh-hill_ when I first started reading the series. When I magically found out that it was _kay-hill_, it was really annoying. Sometimes I still go back to my first impulse on accident. Like today.

-muse/mona


End file.
